High Country Bride (32 page)

He was saved by Becky’s appearance. She swept down the stairway, next to them, in a cloud of perfume and gracious goodwill.

“Why, Rafe,” she said, extending a hand and smiling for all the world as if they’d met at some fancy party, “how wonderful to see you!” She hooked her arm through his and steered him away from Emmeline and across the lobby, toward the dining room. “How are Angus and Concepcion? Has there been any word from your youngest brother?”

With Emmeline, Rafe had felt as though he had a whole apple stuck in his throat, but with Becky, he found he could talk. Maybe it was just that he’d taken off that damnable collar.

“Your daughter, or niece, or whatever she is,” he sputtered, letting her polite questions go hang, “is one infuriating female!”

Becky laughed.“Yes,” she agreed.“Isn’t she wonderful?”

The stage driver ambled in then, covered with trail dust and carrying a battered envelope in one hand. He touched his hat to Becky, but addressed Rafe.

“Just the man I wanted to see,” he said, smirking a little. “I got a letter for you. You got another bride on the way, Rafe?”

Frowning, Rafe stepped forward. He took the missive, read the return address, and was struck by a terrible premonition.
The Happy Home Matrimonial Service.

He tore open the envelope, unfolded the page with a shake of his wrist.

“Dear Mr. McKettrick,” it began. “We at the Happy Home Matrimonial Service regret to inform you…”

He found a chair and fell into it. Read the letter again, and then once more, just to be sure.

Becky laid a hand on his shoulder. She seemed worried, and rightly so, if he looked the way he felt right then.

“Rafe?” she asked quietly.“What is it?”

He looked up at her. “There was a legal problem—something about the proxy—” he managed.

Becky frowned, waiting.

Rafe didn’t know whether to shout for joy or break down and cry like an old woman. “Emmeline and I,” he said, and paused to swallow hard, “we aren’t married after all.”

E
MMELINE BLINKED
.
The plank floor of the hotel lobby went soft under her feet. “What?” she gasped, thinking of the times she’d given herself to Rafe McKettrick, like a shameless hussy, without a trace of modesty or reserve.

“We’re not married,” Rafe said. Clive and Sister Mandy looked up from the registration book at the desk, where they’d been conferring over something, and Becky hovered nearby, as if she might be called upon to catch Emmeline in a grand swoon.

Emmeline slapped a hand over her mouth, then reached out and snatched the letter from Rafe’s hand. She read the damning words over several times before she was really able to take them in.

“Emmeline,” Rafe said gruffly, “I’m willing to make an honest woman of you. We can go find the preacher right away and—”

“Make an honest woman out of me?”
Emmeline raged, shoving the letter, now crumpled in her fist, at Rafe. “Of all the arrogant, insensitive,
wretched
things to say—”

Rafe flushed, and straightened his spine. “Well,” he said, in a way that obviously seemed reasonable to him, “it isn’t as if you’re
pure
or anything—”

Emmeline lost control of herself in that moment and did something she’d never even imagined doing before—she struck Rafe McKettrick across the face so hard that he rocked back on the heels of his boots. “Get out!” she screamed, while another Emmeline stood apart, astounded and appalled. “Get out of this hotel and don’t ever come back!” She saw Becky at the edge of her vision, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

“That,” Rafe yelled back, “is exactly what I mean to do!” He turned and stormed across the room to the doors, which were open to the sunshine and relatively fresh air, and even before he hit the sidewalk, Emmeline wanted to call him back.

Her pride wouldn’t allow it. She looked at Becky in a fever of desperation.

“Oh, Emmeline,” Becky said, very softly, “this is no time to be pigheaded. Go after the man.”

But Emmeline was unable to move. She watched through dry, burning eyes as Rafe strode past the front window, never so much as glancing her way.

“If he wants me,” she said, raising her chin, “he’ll have to come courting.” With that, she turned, climbed the stairs with all the dignity of a reigning queen, and promenaded along the second-floor corridor to the room she shared with Becky. There, she opened the door with decorum, stepped over the threshold, grabbed the pitcher from the washstand, and flung it hard against the nearest wall. It shattered with a satisfying, almost musical clatter.

The basin soon followed, splintering into a hundred tinkling shards.

Emmeline slammed the door behind her, marched herself over to the bed, and flung herself onto it, facedown, stricken by an unendurable grief.

She was now officially a fallen woman, used merchandise. And Rafe
pitied
her.

She began to sob, letting go of years of secret mourning, weeping not just for the loss of her marriage but for the little-girl parties she’d never been invited to as a child, for the times on the street, when she’d been running some errand or other, and women had swept their skirts aside as she passed, for all the dances she’d never danced, and all the flowers she’d never been given. For all the times she’d been brave, and raised her chin, and said it didn’t matter.

Here, at last, was something that
did
matter, unequivocally, undeniably: the link between her heart and Rafe’s. And now that was gone, too, just another flight of fancy.

Presently, Emmeline sat up, wiping her face with the heels of her palms.

It was time she put away childish things, once and for all. She was a woman, and there would be no more pretending.

Rafe was pacing off measurements and driving stakes into the ground when Kade rode across the creek, no doubt having spotted him from the barn, and sat there, leaning on the canticle of his saddle, watching him.

“What the hell are you doing?” he finally asked, when Rafe volunteered nothing. By that time, word was probably all over the territory that his marriage to Emmeline was nothing but a farce, and she probably had half a dozen suitors by now. Kade had to know, and now he was just looking for a chance to rub it in.

Rafe picked up a hammer and drove in a stake with one blow.“Fixing to build myself another house,” he said, with appropriate irony. After all, it would have been obvious to a blind man, what he was doing.

Kade narrowed his eyes, resettled his hat. Got down off the horse. “Why, so you can burn it down in a fit of temper, the way you did the last one?”

Rafe favored his brother with a scathing glance.“I mean to take another wife,” he said.“Start over from scratch. This time, I’ll have a house ready. Do things right.”

Kade stared at him. It wasn’t often that he was at a loss for words, but this time, he appeared to be choking on his own tongue.“What about Emmeline?” he demanded.“Or are you taking up bigamy now?”

“They made a mistake, at the Happy Home Matrimonial Service,” he confessed, and he felt some of the starch going out of him, just by saying the words. “Turns out Emmeline and I were never legally married.”

Kade let out a long whistle of exclamation, and Rafe, watching his brother through narrowed eyes, couldn’t rightly tell if he was sympathetic or not. “Son of a gun,” he said.

“I figure this is my chance to take up with somebody more suited to life on a ranch,” Rafe said.

“Like who?” Kade demanded, wrenching off his hat. He looked like he might take a bite right out of the brim. “Just exactly who do you figure on marrying? That little nun at the hotel? Or maybe you mean to chase after Phoebe Anne’s train and drag her back?”

“I’ll find somebody,” he said, pounding hard at one of the stakes in the ground.

Kade sighed and wheeled his arms once, for emphas Rafe guessed. “I knew you had your head stuck up your ass,” he said, “but I never reckoned how far!” He took a step toward Rafe, like he wanted to punch him, and then stopped, which was a wise choice on his part. If he wanted a fight, Rafe would oblige, and this time it would be no good-natured, brotherly scuffle, like the one before Jeb left.“Are you crazy, or what?” Kade persisted.“Emmeline is beautiful. She’s sweet, and smart, too—the kind of woman any man would be proud to have for a wife, and the mother of his children.”

“You want to marry her?” Rafe drawled. And then he frowned. It hadn’t occurred to him that one of his own brothers might step in and offer himself as Emmeline’s next husband. Now, he knew it was a real possibility—he could picture either Kade or Jeb riding to the rescue, and Emmeline might go along with such a plan out of sheer spite.

“I might just do that,” Kade said, and he looked like he meant it. “I’d sure as hell treat her better than you have. Not that that would take much doing, Big Brother.”

Rafe looked at the sharpened stake in his hand, looked up at his brother.
Nah,
he thought. Violence never really solved anything, and, besides, Pa would be sure to spot the body right away, since this was one of his favorite places to walk when he was brooding over something.

“Stay away from Emmeline,” Rafe said. He couldn’t help reflecting on what it would be like if she took up with another McKettrick. He’d have no choice but to pack up and leave the Triple M for good.

Kade put his hat on, took it clear off again and slapped one thigh with it before slapping it back on his head. His horse, grazing a few yards away, got fretful, and did some fancy sidestepping before calming down. “Have you even tried to talk to her about this?”

Rafe felt the sting of Emmeline’s rejection all over again. He’d offered to do right by her, despite all she’d put him through, and she’d thrown his suggestion right back in his face.“The time for talking is past,”he said. He paused, swept a hand through his hair. His voice was lower when he spoke again, and sort of ragged. “Word around town is, Emmeline’s come into some money. She’s the independent kind, anyhow. Like as not, she’ll move on.”

Kade looked patently unconvinced. “Did she
say
she was going to do that?”

Rafe shook his head. “No,” he said. “But I figure when she hears I’ve ordered up a new bride, she’ll pack up and go.”At least, that was what he hoped she would do. A contrary woman like Emmeline could be downright unpredictable, though.

“You sent away for another bride, after what just happened? Are you out of your mind?”

Kade looked as though he’d like to deck him, right then and there, but, wisely, he showed some restraint. Something flickered in his face—the same look he got when he drew a good poker hand—and then he asked the question that struck Rafe’s solar plexus like a fist.“What if she’s pregnant, Rafe? You ever think of that?”

He hadn’t, what with all that had been going on, and now he felt as though his knees might give way.

“You didn’t, did you?” Kade challenged, when Rafe failed to answer.

Rafe dropped the stake, dropped the mallet. Grabbed Kade by the front of his shirt. “You know someI don’t?” he demanded, in a whisper sharp enough to saw at the inside of his throat.

Kade knocked Rafe’s hands away, adjusted his shirt indignantly. “Big Brother,” he said, “I know
plenty
of things you don’t.”

“Right now,” Rafe said, flexing his fingers,“I’m only interested in one of those things.” He wanted to grab Kade again, but he resisted the temptation. There’d be a fight for sure if he did, and he needed to keep his head. “Tell me about Emmeline.”

“There are a few rumors going around town, that’s all,” Kade said. He looked almost contrite now, though there was a glint in his eyes that Rafe didn’t care for at all.

The thought of folks gossiping about Emmeline, for any reason, made Rafe spitting mad. They had no damn right, poking and prodding, making judgments, prying into other people’s private business. “Like what?” he asked, his voice low.

“She and Becky mean to build on to the hotel,” Kade answered. “That’s general knowledge. She’s supposed to be heading for San Francisco one day soon—Emmeline, I mean—on some kind of buying trip. Might be gone for some time, according to Minnie, over at the mercantile. Folks are saying Emmeline’s in the family way, and planning to have the baby there on the coast, where nobody knows her.”

“Since when,” Rafe rasped, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from going for Kade’s throat, “are
you
privy to that kind of woman-talk?”

Kade smiled. “Since I’ve been looking for a wife,” he answered. “I make it a point to talk to everybody who might have an unattached female relative. You see, I still haven’t given up on turning the tables on you, Big Brother. Fact is, I’ve been getting letters from half a dozen marriageable women back east.” He paused. Smiled. “How would you like to take orders from me?”

Rafe spat in answer to that, then turned, half blinded by fractiousness and despair, and stomped off toward his horse. Chief, always a dependable critter before, whinnied and tossed his head, keeping himself and his dangling reins just out of Rafe’s reach. No doubt, he’d picked right up on Rafe’s mood, and wanted no part of his plans.

Behind him, Kade laughed. “Going somewhere, Rafe?” he asked.

Rafe managed to catch hold of Chief, calmed him down with a few terse but reassuring words, and mounted. By God, if Emmeline
was
expecting a child, and she hadn’t seen fit to tell him, he’d have a thing or two to say to her.

“You’d better hurry, if you’re headed for town,” Kade said, climbing back into the saddle himself. “Fine woman like Emmeline, why, she’s probably got a waiting list of men wanting to court her as soon as she takes your ring off. Past or no past, baby or no baby.”

Rafe’s belly churned at the images taking shape in his mind. He wheeled the horse around, without another word to his brother, intent on only one thing—confronting Emmeline.

Emmeline’s bags were packed, and stacked on the sidewalk outside the general store. The stagecoach had just rolled in, disgorging an interesting flock of passengers, and the air was roiling with dust. Becky stood next to Emmeline, a handkerchief pressed to her noe and mouth. John Lewis was there, too, as unsettled as Becky was.

Neither of them wanted Emmeline to make the trip to San Francisco, especially alone, but she’d made up her mind. She needed some time away, to think matters through. Especially since Minnie, who managed the post office in the back of the general store, had confided, two days ago, that Rafe was “up to his old tricks again.”

Emmeline, there to pick up Becky’s mail, most of it forwarded from Kansas City, had not been able to resist asking what those “old tricks” might be, and Minnie had told her, with feigned reluctance, about Rafe’s
new
letter to the Happy Home Matrimonial Service, in Kansas City. She’d heard tell, Minnie said dolorously, that Rafe was fixing to try married life again, with a brand-new bride. Emmeline, seething, wouldn’t have been surprised if the old snoop had steamed the envelope open and read Rafe’s letter for herself, but at that moment, and in the furious and anguished minutes, hours, and days following, the other woman’s perfidy was hardly her foremost concern.